


On the Wing

by railise



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Drama, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-10
Updated: 2011-05-10
Packaged: 2017-10-19 05:48:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/197609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/railise/pseuds/railise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A traveling carnival has come to Camelot, with a surprise in store for the king and queen.  Set post-S3.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On the Wing

**Author's Note:**

> First-place winner in the [Arthur/Guinevere Fanfiction Challenge Community](http://ag-fics.livejournal.com)'s 1st Long Challenge, at LiveJournal. Very loosely inspired by the ending of the Hungarian folktale ["The Three Lemons"](http://people.uwec.edu/KISHKEJM/Old%20Hungarian%20Fairy%20Tales.html).

The scene in the courtyard was a festive one. Sprightly music incited the carnival-goers to dance, turning their bright dresses and shirts into a swirl of color from where Arthur watched from up in the royal chambers. Aromas of various meats, vegetables, and pastries made his mouth water, and he finished donning his cloak and turned to where Guinevere was putting on her finishing touches. She seemed to be having trouble fasting her bracelet, so he went over and took care of it for her, reflecting contentedly that they sometimes did not even need to speak in order to communicate. She did not need to ask for help, nor did he need to offer; it was all implied.

"Thank you," she said with a smile as he got it fastened.

"You're welcome." Stepping back, he ran his eyes over her, stunned as ever by the picture she made-- and by her modesty, as she blushed prettily and glanced down at his perusal. He tried unsuccessfully to find a way to sufficiently compliment her. "You look... 'beautiful' does not begin to cover it. 'Breathtaking' comes a little closer." The crown resting on her head was a touch he especially liked, not because she would seem any less without it; rather, it brought to his mind the satisfaction that she was now his wife, his queen, exactly as he had known she should be.

Guinevere laughed a little, the sound self-deprecating, peering up in way that might have been coy in another woman, but was too guileless to be described as such when coming from her. Sizing him up, as well, she said, "You look positively amazing, yourself."

He waved away the compliment, but actually quite liked hearing it from her. It had never meant as much from anyone else, and it certainly had not pleased him as deeply. "Are you ready?" Turning toward the door, he crooked his elbow.

She slid a gloved hand into it and nodded with an excited grin. "Very much so." At first, he had been uncertain about permitting the carnival in Camelot, as its leader had struck him as incredibly odd; his apparel, alone, was enough to make one's eyes ache, his manner of speech having a similar effect on the king's brain, and Arthur could only imagine what the rest of the troupe would be like. However, Guinevere had taken to the idea instantly, and had gently pointed out that the kingdom could use some levity after the last several months Camelot had endured. Nor could he argue that, after another large-scale attack from Morgana and the disappearance of his father. Many people had died, many more had suffered and grieved, and everyone was in need of something good and light.

As they stepped into the courtyard, Arthur was glad Guinevere had talked him into allowing this. Most of the stands and events were set up outside the city walls, simply as a matter of space, but performers moved throughout the town, and the main stage had been erected in the castle courtyard, surrounded by some of the choicest food stands and other vendors, as well as the band playing another spirited tune for a collection of dancers over by the gate.

It was from the main stage that the leader of the troupe, a man who called himself Tullius, announced their arrival. Having apparently just completed some feat, brightly-hued tassels swinging from numerous seams of his checkered suit as he jumped up, he called out to his lively audience, "Good people! We are fortunate, indeed, to now be joined by your worthy lieges, and my exceedingly kind patrons for the week" --he swept a low bow at that-- "Camelot's royal family, the venerable King Arthur, and his magnificent queen, Guinevere." The crowd was already animated, and burst into loud cheers as Tullius gestured toward the castle steps.

Arthur exchanged a bemused glance with Guinevere; neither of them was one for pomp and circumstance, and they had been maintaining a slightly even more casual atmosphere than Uther did. But, Gwen shrugged good-naturedly and gave a little wave to the gathering, eliciting a fresh spate of cheering. When she nudged him, Arthur lifted his hand, as well, and huzzahs and applause broke out once more. Still slightly taken-aback, Arthur nonetheless responded, "Thank you, everyone. But please, do not let us interrupt."

In acknowledgment, Tullius bowed nearly to his toes once again, tassels swaying off of the points on his tall hat to brush the planks of the stage. "On with the show!" he declared as he straightened once more. As he launched back into his act, Guinevere tugged on Arthur's elbow, leading him down to the courtyard. He truly did want to find the source of some of the scents he had detected from upstairs, and spied Percival coming their way with a pastry in one hand, two more stacked on a cloth in his other hand. As the knight met Arthur's eye, he smiled around a mouthful.

Coming over to greet them, swallowing what he was chewing along the way, he held out the pastries on the cloth and said, "You have to try these. I have never tasted anything like it." Arthur waited for Guinevere to take the top one, and then gladly helped himself to the other. Percival sniffed the treat he was eating. "It's got apple, and plum, and something else-- I can't figure out what, but it's delicious."

Taking a chunk out of his, Arthur made an _mmph_ of agreement. The flavor was flooding his mouth; it really was amazing. "What _is_ that?" he asked, referring to the mysterious flavor, as he bit into it again.

Guinevere was pondering hers, as well. "Is that rhubarb?" With another bite, she thoughtfully shook her head. "No, that's not it."

Finishing his off, Percival wiped his hands on the cloth and shrugged. "Perhaps, the baker will let you in on the secret, but she would not tell me. She's got a lot of meat pies and things, as well, if you're hungry." He directed them toward the stall in question, and then set off on his way with a happy farewell.

Every stall had something worth seeing, and they took their time exploring what all the carnival had to offer. Most vendors offered them gifts, which Tullius had said would happen when he met with them the day earlier. While Arthur did not feel quite right accepting so many items without compensating the sellers, the carnival leader had warned that it would be taken as an insult should they refuse. Guinevere clearly felt even more uncomfortable about it than he did, but received the tokens so graciously that Arthur felt she put to shame the manners of most nobility he had known-- himself included.

Despite her hesitation, she seemed greatly pleased by a gauzy shawl which a stooped, old woman presented to her. How the woman managed to execute such fine needlework with her hands as twisted as they were baffled Arthur, but there was no denying the artistry of the birds which fluttered motionlessly along the fabric. While they could not pay for that piece without causing offense, Arthur purchased two more of the woman's wares when Guinevere moved along to the next booth, arranging to have them picked up later. He was excited to give them to her, pleased as she was with the one with which she had already been presented, and he was also glad to help support such a worthy artisan.

After availing themselves of some of the baker's meat pies (and being unable to learn her secret ingredient, even with their influence), they eventually found themselves at the edge of the dancing. It was no surprise to see Gwaine in the middle of the frolic, twirling a half dozen girls in turn as they skipped around him, and Guinevere burst out laughing.

Arthur laughed, too, although he did exclaim in jest, "Are _any_ of my knights actually working today?" He had told them to enjoy themselves and was glad to see them doing so, but the open nature of the carnival was causing him some anxiety about safety.

"Not a one," a voice confirmed cheerfully, as Leon walked up, a lovely lass on his arm. Gesturing toward her, he said, "Allow me to present Nicola."

The young woman giggled and curtsied while they all exchanged greetings. His smile becoming more genuine, Leon added, "We do have everything covered, sire."

"I know. It is simply that..." Arthur indicated the scene nearby with amusement. One of the dancing girls had brought Gwaine a tankard of ale, which he tossed back in full without stopping for breath. That done, he swiped his mouth along one sleeve, wrapped the other arm around the girl's waist, and kissed her before swinging her feet off the ground and resuming the dance.

Leon grinned. "We were just heading over there; I'll see that he stays out of trouble." As he and Nicola took their leave, Guinevere laced her fingers through Arthur's, and he smiled over at her.

"The dancing does look like fun," she remarked, her eyes twinkling.

It did, at that, and they followed Leon and Nicola over to join in. As they swung along with the music, Arthur tried to figure out if he was getting more enjoyment out of it for himself, or from watching Guinevere. He suspected the latter. She seemed happier, more free, than at any time he could remember. They had not had many moments like this-- none, actually. The trappings of state which surrounded their wedding, especially in light of the previous king's absence, had toned down the celebratory aspect; and there had been little cause to celebrate much else recently. This carnival had been an excellent idea, and he was glad she had talked him into it.

They stayed for the next few tunes, but finally decided to move along again, eventually finding themselves back at the main stage. Tullius was still performing, and had just pulled Merlin from the audience as a pawn for his next trick as they walked up. With a wave of the performer's hand, a flash of light and a puff of smoke emerged from each of Merlin's ears, which Merlin did not seem aware of, blinking in confusion as the audience applauded.

Arthur was impressed despite himself as Tullius patted Merlin on the shoulder and directed him off the stage. While he had lifted the ban on magic, the only thing that had truly changed was the active persecution of practitioners; distrust and hard feelings would take longer to resolve. So, when setting up the event, Tullius had assured him that no magic was used in his routine. For the life of him, Arthur could not imagine how the trick with Merlin might have been played out, then, without the young man's knowledge of it, and clapped along with the rest of the crowd.

"That is normally the end of my performance," Tullius announced. "However, since I see we have a pair of honored guests in the audience" --he indicated Arthur and Gwen-- "I do have a surprise in store, which I have prepared apart from my normal routine, specially for the great Arthur Pendragon." Guinevere grinned up at Arthur, obviously delighted, as the audience applauded again.

"That is very flattering," Arthur replied, figuring this followed the same principle as the gifts from the vendors. "Thank you."

Tullius chuckled. "You have not yet seen what I have in store! You may not wish to thank me just yet." He winked at the audience, and all of them, the royal couple included, laughed along. Bowing again, this time directing it at Guinevere, Tullius extended a hand and asked, "My lady, if you would be so kind as to take part in my surprise?"

"I'd be delighted," Guinevere called back, moving through the small crowd and climbing onstage.

"If you would come along, too, my lord," Tullius requested of Arthur, who acquiesced and moved up to the stage. When all three of them were on the platform, Tullius indicated a spot toward the front of the stage and said, "Now, my lord, please wait here; and my lady, if you would please accompany me behind this curtain for just a moment." Smiling mischievously at Arthur, Guinevere followed the oddly-dressed man out of sight.

A few brief moments passed, and Arthur glanced out at the crowd, catching sight of Merlin and giving him a pleasant nod. While he would have expected to see his friend enjoying the show, he was taken aback to see that Merlin was frowning. That was strange, but then Merlin did have a tendency to worry about things...

...a tendency brought on by possessing magic, Arthur reminded himself, glad that he no longer automatically became uncomfortable acknowledging that. It had taken some in-depth conversations with the younger man, and unfortunately, some apologies for overlooking Merlin's contributions for so long. But, Arthur felt that they had finally made progress, and was closer to being at ease with the idea of a sorcerer for a friend than he had expected in such a short time.

Still, that did not explain the concern on Merlin's face, but Arthur had no time to consider it further, as Tullius came back onstage then, carrying a wooden perch with a dove sitting on top, a thin cuff on its ankle attached to the post by an equally delicate chain. Setting it toward the left-center of the stage, he walked back behind the curtain, reappearing with a second perch and dove, which went in the direct center of the stage. One more trip produced a third bird, and then he stood off to the side opposite Arthur, tucking his hands behind his back.

"Three doves," he announced. "If you will examine them closely, my lord, you will find little to distinguish them." Arthur wondered where Guinevere came into this, but did as he was bid, appraising the birds and concluding that Tullius spoke the truth; other than the bird on the left having a more pleasing pattern to her feathers, they were all essentially the same. "You will also find that each bird has a small pin in the feathers on the back of her head." Moving along behind the perches, Arthur nodded as he saw that this was also true.

"This is a guessing game," Tullius continued, his voice becoming less projected and more as if he was speaking solely to Arthur. "Guess correctly-- remove the correct pin-- and you not only free your wife from her new, winged form, but also two other young women who might have held that title." The words hit Arthur like a blast of icy air, chills making his every hair stand on end as shocked murmurs floated through the audience. _Free your wife..._ Staring at the birds and then back at Tullius, Arthur started forward, hand going to the hilt of his sword.

Tullius held up his hands. "You may wish to hold off on that," he advised with a slight giggle.

"I really do not think so," Arthur growled, drawing the blade and advancing on the sorcerer.

"Kill me, and they all remain as they are, for the rest of their lives," Tullius stated calmly, drawing the king to a halt. "If you manage to wound me and remove the incorrect pin before I die, you _may_ restore one of them. Of course, the other two will then be consigned to the fate of a dove."

Merlin had come forward through the crowd and was standing at the edge of the stage; glancing over at him, Arthur also saw Leon and Lancelot starting toward the platform from the back of the audience.

Bringing the point of his sword to Tullius's throat, he commanded, "Release them now."

Tullius shrugged. "Alas, the only one who has the power to break this spell is you. Not I, nor your powerful friend" --a nod to Merlin, who was clambering onstage-- "nor any other man, woman, or creature has the ability to undo this magic. If anyone besides you removes any of the three pins, all of those delightful ladies will instead become delightful residents of your dovecote."

As Lancelot and Leon jumped onstage and restrained him, Tullius noted, "You could, of course, ask for advice. Although, should you take their suggestion and it turns out to be incorrect..." He trailed off, and Arthur understood exactly what he was saying.

"No one is to offer any suggestions," Arthur announced sternly. He would not have anyone else, or himself, blame someone for offering the wrong opinion, thus costing him Guinevere. _No._ He would not lose her; surely he knew her well enough to distinguish which was her...

Peering at the birds, a raw hopelessness began to gnaw at his insides. "Why are you doing this?" he demanded, facing Tullius once more. "We have never met, have we?"

"Never," the man confirmed. "I am merely a messenger, hired by one who has grown tired of hearing your name on his love's lips for the past three years. My employer believed you would not truly know love, even if you must."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Arthur demanded incredulously. "Whom does this involve?"

"The Lady Vivian is the woman in question. My employer is a suitor of hers, and will remain unnamed. Although," Tullius mused, "he may name himself in coming after me, when he learns the terms of my spell." With another short giggle, he eyed the birds.

Arthur's eyebrows shot up. "Lady Vivian..." _...is still obsessed with me? …is one of these doves? ...has a suitor, despite still being obsessed with me?_ Shaking his head to clear it, he asked, "What about the third one?"

"The stakes were not quite high enough with only two options," Tullius said. "Fortunately, you had another would-be bride who could play along."

Arthur figured he knew whom the final dove was, but Merlin asked, "Princess Elena?" before he could.

"Very good," Tullius replied condescendingly, and Arthur cringed. He never could see marrying her, but he did quite like Elena, and felt badly that she had been dragged into this. Lady Vivian... well, honestly, the world might be better off with her as a songbird; but he regretted that her spell had not yet been broken.

And, if her jealous suitor had kissed her once at all with no success, he was wasting whatever fee Tullius demanded.

"Throw him in the dungeon," Arthur ordered his men, turning to examine the birds once more. Three doves; three women. Guinevere, Elena, and Vivian... all depending on him to know one of them in this form.

Tullius chuckled as the knights began pulling him away. "Every trick I performed until this, each part of my routine, was not magic," he called out. "But, I have saved the best, the strongest magic, for last!" Quickly muttering under his breath, there was a blinding flash.

When anyone could see again, the carnival had vanished. Every booth, every performer, was gone. All that remained was a wooden stage with three doves chained to their perches-- and a large gathering of confused citizens, two knights clutching empty air, and one very angry king.

He needed to focus, to let the ire evaporate, so he did, walking over to face the birds.

"Arthur--" Merlin began, but Arthur shook his head.

"No, Merlin. You heard what he said; I need to figure this out for myself." Turning briefly to the other man, he continued quietly, "Elyan should be told. Go find him." To Leon and Lancelot, studiously ignoring the deep concern on the latter's face, he said, "Have messengers sent to King Olaf and Lord Godwyn."

"You can do this," Merlin said confidently, laying a hand on Arthur's shoulder. Meeting his gaze, Arthur knew Merlin was not only saying that; he truly believed it. "You and Gwen have something unique. You'll know her."

The part of his mind which had known for years that he belonged at her side, despite most of the world attempting to convince him otherwise, agreed with Merlin's assessment.

The logical part of his mind, the one he usually listened to, said he had a two-thirds chance of ruining the lives of all of the women, and his own into the bargain.

Merlin seemed to know, and gave him one more encouraging nod before turning to find Gwen's brother.

The crowd had not diminished with the loss of the fair. Rather, word was spreading as to the situation at hand, and more people were gathering around the platform. Arthur barely noticed them as he stared at the birds, that hopeless feeling settling even more deeply into his gut. How was he supposed to figure this out? They were _birds_ , there was nothing to make one stand out over the others--

Well, almost nothing. He had noticed the plumage on the one in the middle. As he moved closer, he thought of how often Guinevere had told him there was always hope. Remembering her voice, her belief in that statement, eased his tension. All right... he could do this. It was Guinevere, after all.

The feathers of the bird on the left did have an interesting pattern... but could that be a sign of flashiness? Something more Vivian's style? The bird in the middle kept shifting its foot, from which the cuff dangled; Gwen had endured one too many stints in the dungeons, and must hate the idea of shackles. God knew, he hated the fact that she had ever been in them. But, the bird's agitation could also indicate a greater need to be free, which was very akin to what he knew of Elena. The bird on the right kept turning its head, looking all about; that could be indicative of Guinevere's curiosity and observant nature. Or, it could be indicative of Vivian's careless nature. Or Elena's thirst to experience the life around her.

He was getting nowhere. Dropping his face into his hands, he refocused. He had to feel this out, not think it out.

People in the back began yelling out their guesses, before being shushed by those who had heard the king's edict. Arthur neither noticed nor cared, walking all around the perches now, studying the birds in detail, trying to get a feel for them. That would be easier if he were not so damned frustrated. He should have _known_ something would happen... he should know now what the answer was--

And suddenly, he did.

He had no idea why, but he was suddenly perfectly sure that she was the bird on the left.

There was nothing different enough about that dove to suggest that it was Guinevere. The eyes were as widely curious as those of the other two; each of their markings was slightly varied, but nothing obviously pointed to her. Yet, he had no doubt that it was her.

That logical portion of his brain screamed at him not to pull that pin. The other portion sat back and smiled.

Walking without hesitation to the bird on the left, he reached out and pulled the pin from its feathers. His logical side tried to send a jolt of terror through him, but it fizzled out. He was right, he knew it.

The bird's wings began to grow, and then grow some more as it fluttered down to the floor. And, in a smooth transition, Guinevere rose to her feet, fortunately clad as she had been all day, the embroidered shawl around her. Rushing to him, she melded into his arms as the audience cheered.

"Are you all right?" he demanded over the din.

"I'm fine," she reassured him. Placing a gentle kiss on his lips as the crowd cheered again, she let out a small laugh, and then said, "You looked very sure of yourself there."

He was startled that she had been aware of what was going on, but rather than quiz her on it, replied simply, "I was."

"I was sure of you, too." She smiled. Not caring about everyone watching, Arthur kissed her again, until she pulled back and said, "We should free the others."

He had honestly forgotten them in his relief at having Guinevere back, but went over and saw to the other two. His relief grew when the first to return to her true form was Elena, who gave him a quick peck on the cheek along with a, "Thank you," and then went to greet Gwen as Vivian shed her feathers.

Her face lit up when she saw him. "Arthur, my love!" she exclaimed. Wide-eyed, he looked to Guinevere for assistance, but she could not get to him before the enchanted blonde. Just before Vivian could latch onto him, he caught her by the upper arms.

"Lady Vivian," he said in a formal tone, "it is good to see you again. You'll remember Guinevere--" He paused for her to acknowledge Gwen, but as she glanced at Gwen and then back at him, Vivian shook her head blankly. Irritated by the compete dismissal of a woman whose company she had shared for a week, Arthur took more pleasure than he had expected to when he said, "She is now Queen Guinevere. My wife."

Looking wildly back and forth between them, Vivian then stared at him in shock. "That cannot be! But, my love--"

"I am not your love," he said, gently yet firmly. "Although, if you have not yet given a certain wealthy, long-standing suitor a try, I suggest you consider it." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Guinevere hide a grin.

"I do not _want_ anyone else," Vivian whinged, stamping her foot as tears welled in her eyes.

Elena stepped forward, shooting a sympathetic glance at him and Guinevere, and laid an arm around Vivian's shoulders. "There, there. Come with me; let's see if there are any sweet puddings in the kitchen."

Arthur mouthed a silent thanks to her, noting to himself that he owed her for this, as Vivian acquiesced, gazing soulfully at him as Elena led her away. Perhaps, to make it up to the princess, he would agree to another horse race to quell her thirst for winning, as painful as that was to think about.

Even more painful was the thought that he could have lost Guinevere today. While he did not regret legalizing magic, part of him understood where his father had been coming from. Taking her hand, he relaxed as she gave his a little squeeze; there was that silent communication again.

 _I love you._

He smiled over at her. _And I, you._

She looked pleased, yet a little tired, and he recognized the look. _I'd like to go home._

Jumping down off of the stage and lifting her down, he then tucked her hand into his elbow. Together, they started back across the courtyard toward the castle, her shawl fluttering delicately behind her.

Camelot had had some levity, and some adventure. Now, it was time for life to return to normal...

...as normal as it ever was, anyway.


End file.
